


You'll See

by germanjj



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanjj/pseuds/germanjj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something John is dying to give Sherlock for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll See

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 1 of wishlist_fic on LJ
> 
> original prompt: Sherlock - Sherlock/John - So how do you get it through to a high-functioning sociopath who is absolutely clueless about interpersonal relationships that you actually are interested in him? And that he really is interested in you?

It's quiet in 221B. Unusually so, although Sherlock is there, filling up all the space on the sofa - that is as usual at least. But even he is quiet; and not restless or brooding or in one of his other moods John has learned to deal with over the time.

The telly is on, showing some old Christmas movie John remembers watching with Harry every year when they were kids. Snow lies thick on the streets and the roofs of London, deafening every sound from the outside. The small bulbs on their Christmas tree are the only ones lightening the room - except for the telly of course - and John is secretly grateful that he insisted on the tree, although Sherlock had gone to great lengths to convince John what a meaningless, pitiful and downright affronting thing a Christmas tree was.

Sherlock seems to endure the presence of said tree just fine right now.

It is - for all the crazy things that happened to them in the last few months - a perfect, normal, boring Christmas day. John wouldn't dare to wish for anything more.

Their presents are lying under the tree, too. Two exceptionally ugly jumpers from Harry - although John is quietly touched by the fact that she gave one to him and one to Sherlock, even if she probably thinks Sherlock and him are more than just flatmates, something incredibly expensive from Mycroft, with the emphasis on something, because John has no idea what it is. He only knows that Sherlock was quite angry unwrapping it, because he couldn't hide how pleased he was with that gift, so it's probably something highly useful for Sherlock's studies. And there's the doctor's bag Sherlock gave him, leather - of course - and stupidly expensive, plus the book on torture devices from the medieval and a season ticket for the "Body-Worlds" exhibit John bought for Sherlock.

And still. There's something else John really wants to give his friend.

It's the words Sherlock had said, replaying in John's head in a loop, like a song getting stuck. 'Of course, John, I tried kissing - three times, you can't extract useful data from trying something once - and I learned it wasn't for me. So I buried my research on that matter and picked up more important work.'

It's breaking his heart. But even more so, it makes him ... itch. For trying to change that sentiment, for being the one being able to change it.

And deep down, he knows he can be the one for Sherlock. If only Sherlock was be able to see what's already going on between them.

 

It happens in the commercial break.

John gets up to get a new cup of tea and Sherlock rearranges the furniture for a reason only Sherlock knows, and then John is putting his cuppa on the table and looking up and Sherlock is standing right in front of him and John just stretches the last few inches and kisses his flatmate.

Softly, with only a hint of pressure.

Sherlock freezes, doesn't pull away, doesn't move at all.

John takes that as all the encouragement he needs and moves his lips just so, tilting his head, bringing up a hand to touch Sherlock's cheek, caressing a finger behind his ear.

Sherlock shudders underneath his touch.

Heat rises inside John, his pulse speeding up, and the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his is so sweet, John aches for more.

"You have to let me in, Sherlock," John whispers against his friend's lips, closing the distance once again.

Sherlock does, after a moment. He opens his mouth just enough that John can gently suck on his upper lip, just so that the tips of their tongues meet.

It's electric. And arousing and intoxicating and perfect.

Until Sherlock makes a tiny noise in his throat, a soft moan, and John gets suddenly scared that he might fall off the edge, that he might not be able to get back from this.

John draws back slowly, breaking the kiss, losing the touch to Sherlock's face. He takes a step back, looking up to his friend.

Sherlock's eyes flutter, traveling through the room before they settle on John again. He swallows. "You've been wanting to do that for a while now," Sherlock states and his voice sounds off, sounds a little shaken up and something like hope flutters through John's stomach as he realizes how much he can get to his friend.

Of course he noticed. Of course he studied John like he always does and deduced what John had only known for a few weeks now.

But Sherlock is still Sherlock.

So how do you get it through to a high-functioning sociopath who is absolutely clueless about interpersonal relationships that you actually are interested in him? And that he really is interested in you?

John nods. "I did. It ... bothered me that you wouldn't know what a beautiful thing a kiss could be." Of course it's not the whole truth. Of course there's more to it. John doesn't go around kissing people out of the goodness of his heart, and Sherlock should bloody well know that.

But that doesn't matter right now. With Sherlock blinking at him, fiddling around with his hands, and with that tinge of color high on his flatmate's cheeks; for the first time since John's world tilted on it's axis, it doesn't matter at all.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock says stiffly, then rubs the back of his head. "Now, I'm thinking that I should have given you something nicer."

John has to bite his tongue not to start laughing. He feels giddy, adrenaline spiking through his veins, as it slowly sinks in what he did. What Sherlock let him do.

"John?" Sherlock asks, and now he's lowering his eyes again, the color on his cheeks deepening. "Can we maybe ... what I'm trying to say is ... are you inclined to ... would you maybe want to ... do it again?"


End file.
